A Secret Call Before My Wedding Day

I stared at my phone, the screen displaying Leo's latest text: "Need to meet. Important findings."

Three days until the wedding. Three days until I'd walk down the aisle toward a man who might be living a double life. My stomach churned as I deleted the message and set my phone down on the coffee table.

"Who was that?" William asked, looking up from his laptop. He sat across from me in our living room, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face in the dim evening light.

"Just my mom," I lied, the words tasting bitter. "Last-minute wedding details."

William smiled, that perfect smile that had once made my heart skip. "Tell her everything's under control. Her daughter's marrying the luckiest man alive."

I forced a smile in return, wondering how many other women had seen that same charming expression. "I'm going to make some tea. Want some?"

"No thanks, babe. I need to finish these reports for Jack."

Jack. The name that had been appearing with increasing frequency in Leo's updates. In the kitchen, I filled the kettle with shaking hands, trying to quiet the suspicions swirling in my mind.

The next morning, I met Leo at a quiet diner on the edge of town. He slid a manila folder across the table before I could even remove my coat.

"William's phone records," he said without preamble. "The number he's been calling most frequently is registered to Jack Cooper, his supervisor."

I flipped through the pages, my heart sinking as I noted the pattern. Calls at odd hours, some lasting only seconds, others for minutes. Late at night. Early mornings. Weekends.

"This seems excessive for work communication," I murmured, more to myself than to Leo.

"My thoughts exactly," Leo replied, his expression carefully neutral. "Especially given the timing. Three calls last night between 11 PM and midnight. Two more at 5 AM this morning."

I remembered William's phone buzzing on the nightstand last night, remembered how he'd taken it to the bathroom, his voice a low murmur behind the closed door. At the time, I'd pretended to be asleep.

"It could still be work-related," I said, clinging to the last threads of denial. "The Peterson account William mentioned—it could be urgent."

Leo nodded, but his eyes told me he wasn't convinced. Neither was I.

"There's something else," he said, pulling out another sheet. "The anonymous caller. I've traced the calls to a location near Westfield High School."

My brow furrowed. "A high school? That doesn't make sense."

Leo's expression remained impassive. "The calls are coming from a burner phone, but I've managed to narrow down the user based on cell tower data and timing patterns." He hesitated, then added, "Ms. Price, I believe your anonymous caller is Grace Price."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me. "Grace? My niece Grace?"

"Yes. Your brother's daughter."

I shook my head, disbelief washing over me. "That's impossible. Grace is sixteen. Why would she—" The words died in my throat as a terrible possibility took shape in my mind.

Leo watched me carefully. "I can't confirm the nature of her relationship with your fiancé, but the evidence suggests she knows something she's afraid to tell you directly."

I left the diner in a daze, my mind racing with questions I couldn't bear to answer. Grace, my sweet niece, the girl who'd been so excited about being a bridesmaid at my wedding. The thought of William with her was too horrific to contemplate.

That evening, I decided to test William. We sat at our dining table, takeout containers between us, when I casually asked, "How's the Peterson account going?"

William paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You've been working so hard on it. What exactly does Peterson do again?"

A flicker of something—confusion? unease?—crossed William's face before he composed himself. "They're in pharmaceuticals. Medical equipment. It's pretty technical stuff."

"And Jack's overseeing the whole project?"

William nodded, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Yeah, he's the lead. Why all the questions about work?"

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light. "Just taking an interest in my future husband's career."

Later, I googled Jack's company. Their client list was public. There was no Peterson account, no pharmaceutical clients at all. The company specialized in real estate development.

Finally I called Grace, my heart pounding."Grace? Is that you?"

Silence stretched for several seconds. Then: "How did you know?"

"Grace, please. What's going on? What has William done? We need to talk—in person."

Silence. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

"Grace, listen to me. You're safe. I believe you. But I need to understand what's happening."

Another long pause. "Tomorrow. After school. The coffee shop on Maple."

The line went dead. I leaned against the cool tile wall, trying to steady my breathing. When I returned to bed, William stirred.

"Everything okay?" he murmured sleepily.

"Fine," I lied, turning away from him. "Just couldn't sleep."

As I lay beside the man I was supposed to marry in three days, listening to his even breathing, I felt a cold certainty settle over me. The perfect life I'd planned was crumbling, revealing something dark and twisted beneath. And somehow, terribly, my sixteen-year-old niece was caught in the middle of it all.

I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. All I could see was Grace's face, imagining her fear, her pain. And William—the man sleeping peacefully beside me—was the cause of it all.